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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25767973">The Dark Room</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ashley_McNabb/pseuds/Ashley_McNabb'>Ashley_McNabb</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Professionals (TV 1977)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>M/M, Prostitution, Whipping</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 06:07:32</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>395</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25767973</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ashley_McNabb/pseuds/Ashley_McNabb</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>The Dark Room</h2></a>
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    <p>It was dark in the room, but not cold. In fact, his skin was so heated, he could feel beads of sweat running all down his back. If his hands were not bound, he could towel himself off.</p><p>It was the anticipation that was the worst. Never quite knowing who’d be paying the wages. Some weren’t too bad, getting their rocks off by slapping his bottom, calling him all sorts and finishing themselves way down deep inside him. They were the pin money though. The easy rides that kept him afloat.</p><p>The real money, the <em>real</em> excitement came from the others. The men that made men out of boys just like him. The men who couldn’t give a shit about him not being able to sit down for a week, never mind work.</p><p>He wasn’t a boy anymore of course. Though he sucked like a Hoover and gave the ride of their lives, he was pushing twenty-five and knew his future allure was dependant on what he would do more than all that he was.</p><p>He was lucky to get the dark room bookings. The pimp that arranged them certainly wouldn’t take <em>any</em> old whore. He was a fair man however, paying Ray Doyle what he thought he’d been worth. The money couldn’t be sniffed at. Most of these sessions would keep him a month which was handy seeing as that’s what was needed to let him recover.</p><p>The air changed and he smelled his punter. It was someone he knew. Not the sandy haired bloke who spoke like a Scot. He could be a bit of a bastard, but advancing age had lessened his strength. Doyle could get over his sessions in less than a week.</p><p>No <em>this</em> was the man all in black, covertly observed once whilst paying his bill. THIS was the real deal. This was the man who could disable Doyle for a month at <em>least</em>. The man Doyle feared and desired above all the others.</p><p>The man in black lit a lamp as he spoke. Not enough light to show off his face, but bright enough to see where the whip was going.</p><p>“Hello again, Sunshine,” was all that he said as he brought down his hand.</p><p>The end of the crop sliced a welt mark straight across Doyle’s genitals.  Resigned to his hard nights' work, Ray Doyle nearly swooned.</p><p> </p>
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